Uncategorized
For those who have lived in Lennoxville for decades, “Brickyard Road” may already be synonymous with Glenday Road in your mind. For the rest of us, however, Brickyard Road and Webster Siding, where the railway tracks cross Glenday, hold no frame of reference. You wouldn’t know it today but for half a century this railway crossing was once the location of a booming brick manufacturing industry.
The photos pictured here focused on capturing the incredible derailment of a CPR immigrant train on April 16th, 1913, carrying 717 passengers coming from Italy, Russia, and Austria bound for Montreal and beyond, where not a single life was lost and only two were injured. This, alone, is an interesting piece of history; to consider the thousands of immigrants who trundled through the Townships on the train, coming from the port in Halifax, on their way to what they hoped would be a better life. In fact, on that single day in April 1913, over 1,200 immigrants were supposed to roll right past Lennoxville if it had not been for the accident.
In addition to the accident, however, the photos unintentionally captured some of the impressive installations that once occupied this now humble stretch of dirt road. As early as 1882, bricks were being manufactured from the clay deposits on this spot that would become known as the “Webster Siding” on “Brickyard Road.” The construction of the International Railway Company’s line in the 1870s made it a viable industry as it made it easy to transport the bricks out of what was an otherwise inconvenient location. The Tylee Brothers were the first to exploit the area, and were in business until Robert Tylee’s death in 1891. By 1902, brick production had picked up again under direction of William R. Webster and the Eastern Townships Brick and Manufacturing Company. In 1908, the company was producing over 1.2 million bricks per year.
For unknown reasons, Webster sold the company in 1917 to William E. Loomis, who had previous experience working with the family firm D.G. Loomis & Sons, which had operated the Ascot Corner brickyard. During this period, the brickyard had the capacity to produced 5 million bricks per year, which were baked in coal and electric kilns. Visible in the train crash photos, it consisted of the brick plant, farm, and dwelling houses for employees.
By 1922, however, W.E. Loomis declared bankruptcy and the brickyard appears to have sat unused for a few years. Operations eventually resumed when it was acquired by a group of Sherbrooke businessmen, including W.R. Webster, Norman N. Walley, M.W. Mitchell, and J.E. McCrea, and operated under the name of the Sherbrooke Brick Company. During this period, it was producing 3.5 million bricks per year. With Walley’s death in 1927, the company faltered once more and was sold to the Eastern Townships Brick and Tile Company, overseen by J.D. Bertrand and Joseph-Augustin Tremblay. It was not long before the Lennoxville brickyard again encountered problems. The early 1930s are dotted with court cases against E.T. Brick for non-payment of bills and information suggests operations ceased around 1931.
By the time of the 1945 series of aerial photos the brickyard’s buildings had been completely removed, making photos such as these even more important in the documentation of our past and give life to the bricks that make up so many of the buildings in the area, particularly in Lennoxville and Sherbrooke.
These photos have been preserved and made available courtesy of the work done by the Eastern Townships Resource Centre and the Lennoxville-Ascot Historical and Museum Society.
Written by Justin Gobeil, summer student
What does the St. Michel Cathedral in Sherbrooke, St. Joeseph’s Oratory in Montreal, the Bank of Canada in Ottawa, and the Musée National des Beaux-Art du Québec have in common? They are all made of the same stone; more precisely, the grey granite extracted from the mountains of St-Sébastien, a small village located in the Eastern Townships. The granite industry has been flourishing in the region for more than a century. The granite, itself, however, is quite a bit older than that. The Appalachians were formed 350 million years ago and are believed to have been as tall as Mount Everest. The granite was made when a bubble of magma got stuck under the crust, giving it time to slowly cool down (instead of erupting like a volcano). With time, the tall mountain eroded, exposing the solidified plutons of granite, and leaving a much smaller mountain, the Mont St-Sébastien, standing at 820 metres. The granite found there is grey, with slight notes of pink.
Everything started when the settlers found interesting grey rocks in their fields while they were clearing their fields to be able to plant crops. At first, the granite was thrown into pile just like all the other rocks. But soon enough, they realized that this stone was different than the others. During the winters, they started cutting and using the granite for practical uses. Quickly, techniques for stone cutting were developed, leading to the construction in 1889 of the St-Sébastien Church, the first to be made of St-Sébastien Grey Granite in the region. As the surrounding villages built their own churches with the grey granite, it started to be recognized in the region of Quebec as one of the prettiest and most resistant ever found in the province. It is with these qualities in mind that it was chosen for the construction of the Basilica St-Anne-de-Beaupré and St. Joseph’s Oratory, which popularized the use of the grey granite for other religious or institutional purposes.
However, when the demand for the St-Sébastien Grey decreased (partially due to changes in architectural trends), the local industry shifted from extraction to a transformation mindset: Instead of extracting blocks in the local quarries, blocks of granite from all around the world are brought in the factories in order to cut and polish them before sending them to the project locations. The invention of the diamond-toothed circular saw allowed the creation of new industries: the counter tops and building cladding. Throughout the years, some companies became leaders in their field, giving them the opportunity to provide the granite for important memorial projects, such as the 9/11 memorial in New York, the World War II memorial and the Martin Luther King Memorial in Washington, D.C., or closer to home, with the Fountain of Tourny, in front of the Parliament Building in Quebec City, or the National War Memorial in Ottawa. So next time that you are visiting one of those cities, pay attention, you might be looking at a piece of St-Sébastien and the Eastern Townships.
Rise at 5am, breakfast, drills, dinner, drills, tea, drills, lights out 10:15pm. Such was the routine of life while in militia camp in the 1880s and 1890s. A cursory glance might suggest days of drudgery but a dip below the surface tells a different story. The rural militia camps were not held every year and, when held, moved around the militia district, usually taking place in June following the planting of crops.
Lieutenant-Colonel Gregor Mattice, who had served in the Fenian Raids, was serving as the Brigade Major when camp was held in Sherbrooke in 1888. His brigade orders and the military reports provided to Parliament by Lieutenant-Colonel C.F. Houghton give us a picture of what went on during the ten days of camp. Finding an appropriate location for the more than 1,000 men and accompanying horses for the cavalry troops was no small feat and the Sherbrooke location, “beautifully situated” on the east side of the St. Francis River, was decidedly inadequate. The flattest part of the location had to be used for the tents, leaving only uneven and rough ground for drilling, which made battalion movements impossible.
From reports and the logbook entries, it was important to the organizers that the surrounding community came away with good impressions of militia camp and the soldiers. Efforts were made to ensure that the camp grounds were left clean, that bathing men were kept discreetly away from passersby, and that they were generally well-behaved while in camp. In turn, locals benefited from the camp with contracts for things like supplying the bread the men received as part of their rations. In the case of the 1888 Sherbrooke camp, the YMCA supported the men by providing free ice water, writing supplies, and reading materials.
Even though the men seem to have behaved themselves appropriately for the duration of the 1888 camp, it was not entirely without trouble. Private Donald McKay, reportedly only 16 years old at the time, of the Lake Megantic company of the 58th Compton Battalion drowned in the St. Francis River, even after swimming had been banned (except in small groups with special permission and supervision) following the recent drowning of private from the 53rd Battalion only a few days before camp began.
Despite the sad incident, the camp carried on with their scheduled activities, which included daily parades and band playing hours, and sports games as part of Dominion Day celebrations.
Last spring, the ETRC received the militia camp logbook for three camps in the Townships that were held between 1888 and 1895. The logbook is available in its entirety online for those who would like to take some time to step back into a part of our military past: https://www.townshipsarchives.ca/military-camp-log-book (click on the image of the cover to read the logbook).
Contributed by Allisha Hampton Pettigrew, Bishop’s University History student
Danville owes its beginnings to Simeon Flint who settled in the area in 1807 and named the town “Danville” after his former home in New England: Danville, Vermont. Early on, this rural town relied on various mills such as sawmills and potato farms to provide work for the people living there. Other industries were gradually established, such as like the furniture maker, James Boutelle, the Dominion Clothes Pin Company, as well as the Danville Chair Specialty Company, which was founded in 1910 and offered work to over 80 people.
At the turn of the century, Danville saw the rise in mining for asbestos in the next town over. As a result, Danville shifted to a residential area for many miners could live and the town square was home to many small shops where people could bustle in and out of, similar to how it is today.
Even though most of those living in Danville today travel to other towns nearby for work or are farmers, the Square and surrounding commercial area remain a core part of the community. Every autumn, the town has an art symposium where many local artists set up their artwork in buildings throughout the town for people to come visit. It provides a great way for the artists to become known throughout the town and surrounding areas.
The Danville Square is now home to small local stores and restaurants and La Mante du Carré is a café that also acts as public market where local artisans may sell their products, such as fruits and vegetables from local farms, bread, honey, pottery, plants and so many other items. The Danville Square has changed and adapted over the years to benefit the people of the town but the square still remains the heart of the town.
On the edge of the square in Danville is Trinity United Church. It was built in 1875 and remains as one of the oldest churches in Danville. There have been numerous churches in Danville: the Presbyterian church no longer in practice has been turned into a restaurant, Le Temps des Cerises, and the Adventist church was turned into a private home. Trinity United Church however is still in operation.
The Congregational minister Ammi J. Parker held the first services at the school and, in 1836, a Congregational church was built on the very same spot as the present location of Trinity United Church. In 1875, the church was rebuilt and is the same one that currently stands there to this day. Trinity United Church’s steeple is one that is easily recognized within the town and the surrounding areas; it sticks out above the other buildings and the structure has remained the same as it was when it was first built.
Trinity United Church’s activities have also remained mostly the same. The Church hosts a Sunday School where children from the area may come to learn more about the religion. The Church also hosts a number of different activities for its members and the community such as suppers, games of military whist and a Christmas play. Despite a mostly French population in the area, there is still a wide English following within the Church. English and French people from Danville and surrounding areas attend the services. Since Danville is home to quite a few churches, church bells can be heard ringing throughout the town. The steadfast presence of Trinity United Church as well as its activities serve as a comfort within a world that is always moving.
These days, with increased interest in self-sufficiency and recognition of the importance of bees in maintaining pollination, beekeeping feels almost commonplace in this area. A century ago, however, beekeeping was the realm of relatively few across the Eastern Townships. A perusal through old issues of the Sherbrooke Daily Record reveals an enthusiastic group of beekeepers, often expounding on the “splendid opportunities to keep bees.”
One apiary (also then known as a bee yard) that was a going concern for over a century was F.W. Jones & Son, established in Bedford in 1878. Not only did they harvest and sell honey across the country, Frank W. Jones was also well respected for his beekeeping products and leather coloured Italian bees (apparently well-suited to the Canadian climate), which they bred and sold. F.W. Jones even invented and sold his own honey comb foundation, known as the Jones-Weed foundation.
Later on F.W. Jones beekeeping supplies was taken over by his only daughter, Audrey, and her husband Richard Craighead, eventually to be sold to Propolis-ETC. During its height, F.W. Jones was one of Canada’s leading agricultural enterprises and Frank continually promoted the business and art of beekeeping, including through the foundation of Quebec’s Bee-Keepers Association.
On the east side of the Townships, among those with notable apiaries were John L. Kennedy in Stanbury and Charles Gill of Coaticook.
In 1914, a science in agriculture portrait noted that “an abundance of wildflowers and the rich clover fields afford the busy bees ample territory to work,” which is a characteristic that continues to flavour Townships honey today. If you have not yet had a chance to purchase some local honey, this is the summer to treat your taste buds!
A box covered with little holes, cords zig-zagging all over the place, connecting and disconnecting to jacks, speaking politely to clients all day long. This was the work of the telephone operator in the time before dialing a series of numbers connects you almost immediately to whomever you wish to reach. Once long distance calls were made possible through technology and businesses and homes were increasingly connecting to the telephone network, switchboards operated by humans were necessary for calls to reach their destination.
At first, switchboards were operated by young men but it was found that women tended to be politer to customers and it was not long before it became a female-dominated job. This new industry gave women an opportunity for some economic independence and work outside of the home. Although telephone operator work typically fell to young, single women, it became a life-long career for others, such as Rose (née Robinson) Thompson in Ayer’s Cliff.
It was uncommon for mothers in the early 1900s to have jobs outside of the home but for Rose Thompson, a widow, telephone operator work gave her a chance to support herself and her young son, Lysle. Following the sudden death of her husband, Cortez J. Thompson, in 1916, she moved from Cassville where they had farmed to Ayer’s Cliff. In 1919, Rose began to work at the switchboard of the Ayer’s Cliff exchange of the Eastern Townships Telephone Company and became the office’s manager in 1923; a position she would continue to occupy for 30 years.
By the end of 1953, Bell Telephone had acquired the Eastern Townships Telephone Company and Rose chose to leave her career as Ayer’s Cliff’s telephone operator and office manager at this time. At the E.T. Telephone Company’s final banquet in late 1953, of the twelve “telephone pioneers” (meaning the employee had over 21 years with the company) that were honoured, eight were women.
While the switch to the Bell Telephone network marked the end of an era for the locally-owned Eastern Townships Telephone Company, the manual switchboard would remain in place in Ayer’s Cliff and continue to be largely operated by local women until the spring of 1962.
Do you have local photographs of people at work at a switchboard or other memorabilia related to telephone offices and switchboards in the Townships? If so and you would be interested in donating them to the ETRC, please get in touch with us!
Barbara Rose Eardley-Wilmot was born June 30, 1915 to parents Rev. Canon Charles Revell Eardley-Wilmot and Rose Meredyth Bowen. Her father, Charles, served as an Anglican minister at various churches throughout the Diocese of Quebec from 1908 to 1941, when a stroke forced his early retirement.
By the time they found themselves in Hatley in 1923, it was Barbara’s third home in her eight years, which was not unusual for a clergy family. In the early years at Hatley there was one particular Christmas that stood out in Barbara’s memory as she later described the year when the Eardley-Wilmots made sure that Christmas came to a family that had little money and a very sick wife/mother.
That year, Rev. Eardley-Wilmot’s wife, Rose, directed her two oldest children, Barbara and Cecily, to wrap some of their own presents up for the two children and to find decorations (cookies, ribbons, tags) for a small tree the Reverend had cut for the less fortunate family. The Eardley-Wilmots even prepared their own turkey for them, content with chicken for themselves. In her recollection of Christmas morning, Barbara wrote: “All up, had some breakfast, horse all ready and harnessed to the cutter, bricks in place, turkey to keep them warm in their pan, and away we go, Dadie, Barbara and Cecily, the trip would be about ¾ of a mile, all goes well, dashing through the snow, when the horse balked. We had changed direction onto a side road where we were headed, and run into a big KAHOO. This was a large snowdrift, higher than the horse, and though I got out and talked to him, all he would say was ‘neigh.’ Cecily and I tried to knock some snow out of the way, then we heard bells. There was the other rig [cutter] behind us. Thank goodness, Dad had brought a shovel, just in case, so we were soon back on course.”
The Eardley-Wilmots successfully delivered all of the Christmas goodies to the family that year and this act of giving would remain etched into their memories for a lifetime. Even though Barbara and Cecily were young at the time, probably around ten and eight years old, they remembered this particular Christmas with a special fondness, recounting it decades later with detail.
It’s perhaps not the first thing we think of when reflecting on the World Wars of the 20th century but love and marriage were ever-present even during this tumultuous period. In particular, love (or, at times, enthusiastic pen pals) played an integral role in the war effort as it helped boost morale. Sometimes this looked like a couple quickly getting married before a soldier was shipped overseas. Other times, this looked like dedicated letter-writing by family, friends, and love interests to those serving overseas.
Romantic relationships also bloomed as servicemen intermingled with the local population while stationed overseas, and, in some cases, resulted in marriages. Once the war was over, many of these new brides followed their men to Canada, becoming known as the “war brides.” It is estimated that approximately 54,000 relatives and dependents returned with Canadian servicemen following WWI and approximately 65,000 wives and children of servicemen were transported to Canada after WWII. It is worth noting that there were some husbands of Canadian servicewomen who also immigrated following the war, and were dubbed with the unfortunate moniker “male war brides” in some of the press.
Most of the war brides were British, though some were from other European countries, and met their husbands while the servicemen were on leave, convalescing, or training in England. Although there were official military policies to discourage the marriage of servicemen and servicewomen to local civilians, it was an inevitable occurrence during the wars. Once peace was declared and the servicemen returned to Canada, the process of bringing their new brides and, often, children, was begun. The war brides and children coming to Canada after WWII, in particular, were transported overseas on converted luxury liners and troop ships, landing at Pier 21 in Halifax and then boarded trains to take them to their destinations across Canada.
For some women, the move to Canada was an exciting adventure while others regarded the departure from their family and homeland with sadness and trepidation. After arriving in their new communities, the war brides were often invited to special welcoming events hosted by local groups such as the Women’s Institute and the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire. At one event, which took place in Ayer’s Cliff, the local ladies shared tips on gardening, dressing for the climate, and recipes for dishes “much loved by all Canadian men” with the new-comers. Many war brides adjusted to and embraced their new community and country over the months and years but for some it proved to be too much to overcome, and they separated or divorced their husbands and returned to England.
Interested in learning more about the experiences of war brides? Joyce Hibbert’s The War Brides (published in 1978), consisting of excerpts from interviews with war brides of Canadian servicemen, is a fascinating account of this group of women.
This month the ETRC would like to enlist the help of readers to identify a few of our numerous unidentified photographs. All of these photographs come from a collection of documents that are primarily from the Lake Massawippi and Hatley areas and, so, it is likely that these photographs picture people and places from those areas. In one, which comes from a group of three images, we see the construction of what appears to be a dam. Is it possibly the Eustis dam on the Coaticook River, near Route 143?
The studio portrait photograph shows a family from around the 1920s. Unfortunately there is no photographer’s stamp to help us narrow down a location but perhaps a reader might recognize one of these smartly-dressed people.
The final images we have today are a jovial-looking group, gathered at a clubhouse perhaps, and what seems to be a school photograph, both from around the late 1940s or 1950s. Do you recognize any of those pictured or have thoughts on their location?
Please get in touch if you can help us solve some of the unknowns of these people and places and help us preserve history!
Crisp air, leaves beginning to change, and getting back into the routines of school are part of how we’re ushered out of summer and into autumn. With the start of school also come the sights of children travelling to class, some by bus, some on foot and others by parent drop-off. With this in mind, a browse in the archives led me through some of the changes in how children and teachers travelled to school over the decades.
An early diary from a teacher, written in 1836, recounts her experiences as she taught for 12 weeks in the “wilderness.” The teacher, known only as “Mabel,” was 17 at the time and she describes herself as having been “tenderly reared” so her foray into the backwoods is recounted with some dramatic flair. While she does not give her specific location, she was probably teaching in the area of either Brome or Shefford County. In 1836, the walk she and the school-aged children of the family she boarded with took to the schoolhouse involved removing and replacing fences, crossing clearings, and much bending and weaving as they navigated the dense woods.
Walking would continue to be the primary mode of travel to school into the 20th century but, as reliable roads were established and the population increased, other methods emerged. One of these was the “horse bus,” pictured here, likely from the East Clifton area, which could transport a number of children to school during the cold winter months.
In the 20th century, the Townships began to see a shift away from local, one-room schoolhouses towards consolidated schools, which partly emerged from the notion that this would result in a better education for the area’s youth but also stemmed from a gradually declining rural population. With schools farther away, it became necessary to find ways to transport students who were no longer able to walk there. One new method was the motorized school bus. By the 1930s, bus technology had advanced enough that school boards were making use of them in increasing number and, in 1939, the iconic ‘school bus yellow’ was adopted as the standard colour for the buses.
As a quintessentially Canadian way to get to school, the Bombardier B12 snow bus made its way onto the scene in the late 1940s as a way to reliably transport children to school over snow-covered roads when the early school buses were not able to.
Looking for an interesting conversation starter with family this Thanksgiving? Ask your grandparents or great-grandparents how they travelled to school!